


The Importance of Self Care

by Flirteenth Doctor (HyperPluviophile)



Series: The Sofa Saga [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Descriptions of injuries but nothing too graphic, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Pacing what is pacing, The Author has no understanding of anatomy, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-09 01:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17397182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperPluviophile/pseuds/Flirteenth%20Doctor
Summary: “That's a Zuetanian plasma blast injury? Tell me, were you standing chest to chest with the person firing it? The Zeutanians are so stupid they’re practically one evolutionary step away from being prehistoric bacteria, how did they manage to do that much damage to you?""Like I said- Too close" She waves a hand weakly, closing her eyes for a moment "It's a long story"Thirteen is badly injured and goes to Twelve for help. Hi-jinks ensue.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back on my bullshit yet again. So after I posted Where the Fallout Lies a couple of people were asking about the other fics I had planned for my abandoned "Sofa Series" and this was one of them. After extensive re-writes (and I really do mean extensive; the original version of this was under 1000 words and it was set after Tsuranga Conundrum) here it is, and as previously I'm not really happy with it (In particular I'd like to apologise for how badly I butchered Twelve's character, it's been a really long time since I've seen seasons 8,9 and 10) But here it is. I've got exams this week and next week so I'm not sure when I'll get around to finishing/posting the rest of the chapters, but hopefully it'll be soon. Oh and thank you to everyone who gave me feedback on my last fic, genuinely I really appreciate it xx

Of all the stupid things she’s done over the course of fourteen regenerations and more than two thousand years. Out of all the unnecessarily foolish and dangerous adventures, bad decisions and ill advised ideas, this has absolutely got to be one of the most frustratingly avoidable, blatantly obviously stupid things she’s ever done. 

She’d known it was dangerous and she’d known she shouldn’t have gone alone and she’d known she’d end up getting way too close to a dangerous species and despite all of that she’d done it anyway. 

And of now she’s paying the price for it.

It occurs to her that the University is far bigger than she remembers. There’s so many staircases and corridors and detours that she’s not sure if she’s going to be able to find her way there in time. Despite how long it's been her chest still feels like it’s burning, and it's only getting worse. The wound has become a throbbing white hot epicentre of pain and on the basis of just how much it hurts alone she can tell that it's dangerously deep. 

Whether or not it’s managed to damage any vital organs is another matter entirely, and she knows she ought to check but she can’t bring herself to stop and look. If she doesn’t keep moving she won’t make it, and then someone else- someone other than the only person who can help her right now- will find her. And if that happens… well that doesn’t really bear thinking about. 

It’s an arduous journey, one only made possible thanks to the adrenaline still running through her, but eventually she breathes a sigh of relief (or as much a one as she can breathe right now) when she finally rounds a corner and comes face to face with a mercifully familiar door. From what she remembers there’s a security system in place to prevent unwanted visitors, and it’s a good system. But thankfully it’s not quite good enough. Very few pieces of technology in the known universe are sophisticated enough to be able to tell the difference between a person’s past and a person’s future, and at her touch the door swings open. 

She takes a second to cling to the door frame in order to try and regain the strength she needs to make it across the room but she’s faltering now. Every cell in her body is screaming at her to stop wasting energy, to devote her remaining strength to healing. To give herself over to the darkness. But she can't do that. Not yet, not when she's so close. She continues into the room, but finds herself stopping abruptly as she realises that the office is already occupied by someone, and not the person she’s looking for. 

However the panic quickly evolves into relief when the figure comes closer and she recognises it as a familiar face. 

“What? Who are you? How did you get in here?” 

_Nardole _. She’s so relieved she could cry. But she can’t, she has to tell him.__

____

“Nardole listen to me, this is really important. I need to see the Doctor” Her voice sounds like it’s coming from far away. Like it isn’t her own “It’s... absolutely urgent...” 

____

At this point she’s not even sure if she’s speaking English or gallifreyan. Based on his expression she realises with a sinking feeling that it must be the latter. But he’s clever, he can figure it out. Even if he doesn’t understand her he’ll know what to do. He’ll fetch him. 

____

And with that she feels herself start to crumble. She’s completely burnt out. Any adrenaline she might’ve been running on has been completely spent and the throbbing burning pain in the side of her chest is engulfing her, driving her to the floor. 

____

No, not the floor. The sofa. There’s a sofa behind her and that’s what she’s falling into. It’s odd; she doesn’t remember owning a sofa at this time in her life. But she’s not got the energy to question it and she’s definitely not objecting to it either. Sofas are acceptable. As is the fact that she’s not, she realises, falling into a healing coma. She’s just fainting. It’s not ideal but it’s far better than the alternative. And with that realisation in mind she gives herself over to the pain, letting it fully drag her away. Letting it burn her inside and out. 

____

____


	2. Self Awareness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I remember anything about Nardole as a character? No. Did I make it so that Time Lords have to consciously go into healing comas so I could have 13 and 12 interact for longer? Yes. Am I going to fail my English Lit exam tomorrow because I put all my energy into writing a fanfic that I'm not that proud of? Possibly (Asdfjkl I'm sorry, I'm really a mess at the moment)
> 
> Like I said I don't know when (or if) I'm going to get around to finishing this but it'll hopefully be soon. Honestly I didn't expect to finish the first two chapters so soon so who knows? Either way I hope that this is ok and I hope you guys enjoy it xx

Doctor…” Nardole’s voice echoes through the lecture theatre, mingling with the frantic sound of chalk being hastily scrawled on a blackboard.

The Doctor rolls his eyes at the interruption and continues with his equation. It’d be far easier to solve the Riemann hypothesis if he wasn’t being constantly disturbed by something or other “Didn’t I tell you to wait in my office?” He asks “Put the kettle on or something, I'll be there in a minute” 

“But that's the thing Doctor. You see I went to your office-” 

“Yes. That’s what I told you to do”

“-And there was a strange woman in there” 

Now he's listening. He lowers the chalk slowly “A what?”

“A woman. She was looking for you. She said something about needing to see the Doctor as a matter of urgency and then she fainted” 

“Hm. How bizarre” The Doctor ponders Nardole’s description. It could just be a student; it wouldn’t be the first time a 20 something year old had wandered towards his office after having too much to drink. But none of them had ever made it past the door. And more to the point it’s half three in the afternoon. Not that he wouldn’t put it past students to be drinking at this time of day but still, it’s definitely too early to be drunk to the point of unconsciousness. For a brief moment he wonders if it might be something to do with the vault but he quickly dismisses that thought. For one anyone with malicious intentions wouldn't have been able to bypass the security system, and for another (perhaps more importantly) anyone attempting to go after the vault wouldn’t bother making a detour to his office beforehand. 

“So, who is she? Do you know her?” Asks Nardole.

The Doctor shakes his head “I don’t believe so” He picks up the chalk again and returns to the blackboard, resuming his scrawling “But who knows? Maybe I do know a strange woman” With a flourish of his wrist he finishes the equation. He takes a moment to admire his work (It’s not every day you solve the Riemann hypothesis two decades before it’s due to be solved) before turning to Nardole “I guess we’ll just have to find out” 

\----

When he enters his office his eyes are immediately drawn to the small blonde woman lying across his sofa. She looks barely conscious, barely alive even; her skin has a greyish tint to it and she doesn’t show any signs of awareness as he draws closer to her. For a moment the Doctor’s more than slightly worried but after a pause she coughs weakly and her eyelids flutter open. 

“Apparently you’re looking for a Doctor” He says, kneeling down beside her “You certainly look like you need one but unfortunately for you I’m not that kind of Doctor”

She doesn’t respond. She just lies there blinking slowly, her eyes dazed and unfocused as she tries to take in her surroundings. It’s apparent that at least for the time being he’s not going to get any information out of her, so instead he opts for subtly pulling out his sonic in order to do a quick full body scan. 

While the diagnostics are running he goes to take her arm in order to check her pulse. Ever so subtly she flinches away from him but doesn’t put up any further resistance as he places two fingers on her wrist. It’s a faint beat, but that’s not what causes him to lower her arm slowly in disbelief. It’s the fact that not only is it a _double _beat but suddenly he can hear her. Well, not exactly hear. But as he touches her a fear and a burning pain and a swirl of incoherent thoughts that aren’t his are suddenly present in his mind.__

__And then as he’s trying to put the pieces together in a way that makes sense (There are plenty of species with binary vascular systems and touch telepathy. All this proves is that she’s not human, It doesn’t necessarily mean anything) She manages to find the energy to say, out loud this time “...I'm usually a lot better at recognising myself…” She coughs again, her eyes becoming slightly more focused “I say I… I mean we”_ _

__“No...” Even as he denies it out loud he knows it must be true. Of course, it all makes sense. How she was able to bypass the security systems. Why she was looking for him specifically._ _

__Under the layers of pain on her face she at least has the decency to look slightly sheepish “Yep”_ _

__The Doctor finds himself a little lost for words as the information sinks in. There’s a badly hurt, barely conscious version of his future on his sofa. He’s not sure if he’s more surprised by the fact that of all the places to go while critically injured she’s decided to come to him or by the fact that he even has a future self of which to speak. Regenerating for a 14th time is something he’s decidedly not planning on doing. And yet here she is. The implications of her existence are hitting him like a train._ _

__He has a future..._ _

__“Excuse me, but what's going on?” Not for the first time today it’s Nardole’s voice that breaks him away from his thoughts._ _

__Shaken out of his brief existential crisis the Doctor stands up abruptly “Sorry Nardole, could you step outside for a moment? Something's come up...Important TARDIS business actually” The Doctor starts to chivy the robot out of the room, ignoring his protests of “Important TARDIS business?” Before succesfully shooing him out of the room and closing the door on him._ _

__The fabric of time is fragile enough as it is. At the very least the Doctor himself won’t remember this encounter but the same can’t be said for Nardole. It’s better if he keeps this strictly between himself, so to speak. And at the moment he definitely has a lot he wants to say to himself, not all of it suitable for polite company._ _

__“What're you doing here?” He hisses, and then after briefly checking his screwdriver a second time, he adds “And more importantly, well I suppose _equally _importantly, do you know you’ve got an almost five centimetre deep hole in the side of your chest?”___ _

____“Plasma burn. My fault, got too close to a 24th century Zuetanian settlement” She breaks off into another wheezing coughing fit._ _ _ _

____“That's a Zuetanian plasma blast injury?” The Doctor makes his way back over to the sofa “Tell me, were you standing chest to chest with the person firing it? The Zeutanians are so stupid they’re practically one evolutionary step away from being prehistoric bacteria, how did they manage to do that much damage to you?”_ _ _ _

____“Like I said. Too close” She waves a hand weakly, her eyes sliding shut again “It’s a long story”_ _ _ _

____That’s by no means an adequate explanation for why or how she came by such a horrific burn, but he quickly decides that it really isn’t worth pursuing the issue further. At the moment he’s got more important concerns, like whether or not his future self might be about to regenerate in the middle of his office. Based purely on the information from his sonic it’s clear that the burn needs immediate attention, and he decides to temporarily shelve any questions he has about why she’s decided to come to him, how she managed to get here without ripping a hole in the universe and how she managed to annoy the Zeutanians into shooting her._ _ _ _

____Kneeling down beside the sofa he gently pulls her coat away from her torso, unable to avoid cringing as the full extent of the damage is revealed. It’s apparent that she’s been incredibly lucky; had the blast been just a little higher she’d have an entirely new face and body by now. But then again, he thinks, it’s not as though that’s not still a possibility. This is definitely one of the worst plasma burns he’s seen in a long time; a significant amount of skin has just been burned away, and in places her ribs have been eaten into, leaving parts of her lung exposed. It’s the sort of injury that’ll probably need time in a healing coma to sort out fully. But one thing at a time._ _ _ _

____“How is it?” She asks, and he’s glad that he doesn’t have time to reply, as she then immediately scrunches her face and shakes her head feebly “Actually no, don’t tell me. I don’t think I need to know”_ _ _ _

____“...I feel as though I ought to tell you your shirt’s ruined” He decides against telling her the exact details of what’s happened to the shirt. He’s never seen a plasma burn with pieces of cotton polyester melted into it before, but like having your future self on your sofa there’s a first time for everything._ _ _ _

____She makes a small sound of irritation “That’s annoying. I really liked this shirt”_ _ _ _

____“Right now I’d be more worried about your chest if I were you, because that’s going to be a little harder to replace”_ _ _ _

____Carefully the Doctor begins rolling what’s left of her T-shirt up and out of the way; he’s going to need unhindered access to the wound if he’s going to try and remove the various pieces of shirt and general filth from it. Speaking of which- He lowers his voice “You know I’m going to have to clean this don’t you?” There’s no point delaying the inevitable. No matter how unpleasant this is going to be._ _ _ _

____She takes a deep breath “Yeah”_ _ _ _

____“It’s going to hurt” He continues. And honestly, hurt is an understatement. This is going to be excruciating._ _ _ _

____“It already hurts. ‘Can’t get much worse” Despite everything she manages to convey an impressive amount of flippancy. It’s almost convincing. _Almost__ _ _ _

______“Yes it can”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Her facade cracks a little as she winces visibly “You’re right. It can. But I’m trying not to think about that”_ _ _ _ _ _

______As she starts wheezing again The Doctor ponders his options. He’s wondering if there’s any other way of doing this that doesn’t involve her having to be fully awake. There’s a small chance he might have some painkillers tucked away in the furthest corners of the TARDIS but that’s doubtful. Perhaps...._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’d probably be against the Hippocratic oath but... I suppose I could knock you out” He proposes, and he’s not entirely joking either; He’s spent enough time in pre anaesthetic eras to know that in many ways you can’t beat a solid blow to the head._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Did we ever actually take the Hippocratic oath?” She rasps, before immediately dismissing the question “Actually, it doesn’t matter. Just don’t do that” She pauses to take another heaving breath, and he’s reminded that time is of the essence. The longer she’s awake the worse she sounds (and looks) and they really do just need to get on with things._ _ _ _ _ _

______“S’pose I could just regenerate” She continues after she’s got some of her breath back “That might not be so bad”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“While that would definitely require far less effort on my part, I’m not letting you regenerate in my office. You’ve seen what it does to the TARDIS, could you imagine the damage it’d do to a medieval university building?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She’s too weak to laugh but the corners of her mouth twitch into the faintest hint of a smile. Then her eyes slide shut again and through gritted teeth she says “Just do it. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll… Take my mind off it. I’m good at distracting myself. At least, I think I am”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The Doctor raises an eyebrow at her._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’ve survived worse” She adds, and the slight crack in her voice betrays the fact that it’s herself she’s trying to reassure rather than him._ _ _ _ _ _

______With a decision now reached The Doctor turns away from her and begins to head to the TARDIS, muttering “If that’s true then I’m extremely concerned for our future” under his breath as he does so._ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading x As always if you spot any spelling/grammar errors please feel free to point them out to me. I don't have a beta reader so asdfghjkl mistakes have probably been made


	3. Self Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So remember that 'The author has no understanding of anatomy' tag? That's for this chapter. Originally this was meant to be a brief chapter that just established a couple of things before the actual plot stuff started to happen but I had the entire day to myself today and I knew it this “filler” chapter was 2000 words long. 
> 
> Regardless I'd like to thank everyone who commented and left kudos on the last two chapters, genuinely I really appreciate how kind everyone was because I was really nervous about posting it :)
> 
> Oh and again, if you notice any parts where I've messed something up then please let me know because asdfghjkl I still don't have a beta.

When the Doctor had left the TARDIS in the early hours of the morning he hadn’t imagined his day going like this. Not that he’s not used to the unexpected, but for him a surprising turn of events usually involves running for his life from some kind of creature or other. Rarely does it ever involve finding himself armed with several sinister looking metal instruments, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, some old towels he’d found lying around the TARDIS and a bowl of warm water in preparation for treating his future self. (With regards to that last detail he knows he should be over the novelty of the situation by now but it’s the sort of thing that might take a while to process)

He kneels down beside the sofa, tentatively picking up a scalpel “Ready?”. 

She scrunches her face “Not really” 

“Me neither” In many ways he knows he shouldn’t find this difficult. It’s not as though he hasn’t done it, and worse, before. But then again this is different. Far more personal. And most people he’s ever had to do anything like this to have at the very least been unconscious (either as a result of the pain or due to a carefully aimed blow to the head) whereas she’s going to be fully alert and aware. 

This is decidedly not going to be a fun experience for either of them. 

The first thing he needs to do is pick the fragments of shirt out of it. Which is easier said than done since unfortunately the polyester has melted itself to the flesh underneath in places. Essentially he’s going to have to cut it out (Hence the scalpel) and by extension he’s probably going to end up cutting her in the process. 

As he begins working on the largest piece he feels her tense beneath him but she doesn’t cry out, even when he starts having to cut closer to her flesh and he knows he must be hurting her. 

It’s an arduous process, one that drags by incredibly slowly, but eventually he succeeds in gently- or rather, as gently as he can- scraping the first fragment out of the wound. 

Dropping it into the bowl of water beside him he spares a glance at his self to check how she’s faring and stops as he realises she’s doing something. Well, doing something isn’t exactly the right phraseology; she hasn’t moved and her eyes are still tightly closed but her lips are moving silently, in a way that (if he didn’t know any better) he’d assume was prayer. Now the Doctor does have what some might describe as a kind of faith- well, more of a belief system surrounding the order of the universe and the way the creatures in it should behave- But he’s not and has never really been the God fearing praying type, more the kind of person who only asks any kind of possible higher power for help when there’s absolutely nothing else to be done. 

Regeneration changes many things he can’t imagine it’d ever turn him into someone of piety. 

“What’re you doing?” He asks, his curiosity piquing despite the situation at hand. 

“Reciting War And Peace. Backwards. In Latin” She replies through gritted teeth “Not sure if I’m getting it right though; it has been a while. I think the last time I read it I was you”

That sounds more like him. Satisfied with the explanation the Doctor turns his attention to another part of the burn, tentatively starting to pick at a new piece of shirt “Is it helping?” His answer comes in the form of a sudden sharp hiss of pain. “I’ll take that as a no then” 

“...Maybe I should try it in Indus Valley Dravidian. Extinct languages- always tricky. But they require…A...A lot of your attention. Makes it harder to think about…” She trails off with a small poorly conceived groan, reverting back to silently recounting Tolstoy, her hands now balled into fists. 

And although the Doctor wants to hear more from her (partly because it’s not every day you get an insight into what you’ll be like hundreds of years into the future but also because if she’s talking it means he knows he’s not puncturing any of her vital organs) it occurs to him that it’s probably not a good idea for the two of them to be attempting to converse while he’s got his hands inside her chest. She needs to save her energy and he needs to concentrate on not killing her by accident. 

But as time goes on and he successfully removes more pieces it seems as though her regenerating on his sofa is becoming a distinctly less likely possibility. Even as he’s working her ribs are gradually starting to knit themselves back together, which on the one hand isn’t entirely brilliant as it means that she’s having to deal with the pain of regrowing tissue and bone marrow on top of everything else, but on the other hand it’s a positive sign that even in the absence of a healing coma her body is starting to put itself back together. 

After around twenty more minutes of work the Doctor eventually reaches the last piece. And then after a few more minutes of struggling he finds himself triumphantly pulling the last piece out and sitting back on his haunches for a moment in order to admire his handiwork. The burn looks fairly clear of general debris now. Or as clear as he can get it without accidentally piercing her lung with his scalpel. He drops his instruments and wipes his hands on one of the towels. That’s the easy part done at least. 

Now for the really unpleasant part. She seems to know it too; she’s eyeing the hydrogen peroxide warily but she doesn’t comment when he picks it up and starts tipping the liquid onto a small bit of cloth. 

“Last chance for the knockout?” He offers unenthusiastically. Neither of them laugh. Possibly because at this point any vague attempt at humour (although as with last time he's not entirely joking) is just stalling. 

He takes a deep breath and begins gently dabbing the antiseptic into the wound, steering as clear as he can of her exposed lung. He’s good, but he’s not ‘Clean a lung with a wet rag and some disinfectant’ good. As he works she remains rigidly still. Not flinching, just completely tense to the point of paralysis. He’s assuming from the very occasional stifled whimper he can hear that she’s stopped reciting War and Peace, but all things considered she’s doing remarkably for someone having an open wound cleansed with a corrosive substance. If he’s being honest the Doctor was expecting a little more screaming. He knows that as a general rule he has a higher pain threshold than most people, but still- he’s not entirely convinced that if their positions were swapped he’d be handling it with as much almost-silent dignity as she is. Hydrogen peroxide is nasty stuff. Even nastier when combined with a fresh plasma burn. Just the thought of it makes his skin crawl. 

When he’s finally done as much as he believes he can he puts the cloth down and assesses the burn again. It doesn’t exactly look good, but it definitely looks better. At the very least it’s now clean and by extension that means that with rest it won’t kill her. 

He stands up “I think that’s as much as I can do. You’ll have to sort the rest on your own” 

It’s a good thing he’s finished; despite how well she’d tolerated the pain it doesn’t look as though she could’ve handled much more of it. She’s ashen faced and trembling, shallow breaths coming in such short bursts that she’s almost hyperventilating. Blood is welling up where she’s been biting her lip and there’s a single tear running silently down her face. 

It’s not an nice sight but the Doctor mentally consoles himself with the thought that at the very least it’s over now. She’s survived the most difficult part. All that’s left is a brief healing coma, which by definition ought to be easy. Again based purely on appearances he’s fairly sure that in the time it’ll take him to fetch a sterile dressing pad from the TARDIS she’ll already be unconscious. 

But when he returns to his office he’s both surprised and impressed (but mostly confused) when the rapid rise and fall of her chest betrays the fact that she’s still awake. Every cell in her body should be signalling her to enter a healing coma. Each nerve letting her know that she needs to start dedicating all her energy to healing. She should be in a state of total shutdown. Well, that’s what ought to be happening at any rate. 

There’s only two possible explanations as to why she’s still awake, and given that it’s clear she’s in no apparent danger now it must be the latter.“You’re trying to fight it? Why?” He asks.

She opens her eyes weakly but doesn’t answer him. Probably because she doesn’t have the breath to. None the wiser as to why she’d be doing such a thing the Doctor decides to begin dressing the wound. 

“I understood before- It’s probably not a great idea to try and heal with pieces of melted polyester in your chest. But there’s nothing stopping you now” He probes, and although she opens her mouth as if to attempt a reply he cuts her off before she can begin “And before you say anything, particularly before you make any references to being ‘fine’, can I just let you know that I can see a disturbing amount of your left lung from where I’m standing” 

She closes her mouth abruptly. 

“Does it have anything to do with the fact that you’ve risked crossing your own timeline in order to come and see me?” He continues “The whole entire universe full of people, full of different versions of us, and you came to me. Why?” It’s a question he’s been wanting to ask her since she’d arrived. Not that he’s expecting a fully detailed or even coherent response, but he’s assuming there must be a correlation between her current distress and her decision to come specifically to him for help. 

She shoots him a look, a very exhausted, half hearted look of irritation that carries with it the implicit message of “Stop interrogating me” But underneath it there’s something else, something far more prominent. A long time ago the Doctor had spent time with a cult of Mariskans, whose High Priestess used to say that the eyes were windows to the soul. Shakespeare used to say that too, but that’s beside the point. Looking into his future selfs eyes now he realises that too an extent it’s true. 

And it finally clicks for him. 

“You’re afraid” It’s not exactly a question, but the way she breaks eye contact with him while making no move to deny it serves as an answer nonetheless. Of course it doesn’t provide the answers to all of his questions, but it’s progress so he’ll take it. She’s not entering a healing coma because she’s afraid and that needs to be addressed. 

Now, for someone whose lifestyle used to involve spending a surprising amount of time around frightened people The Doctor isn’t hugely confident in his ability to be reassuring. It’s one thing to be able to provide someone with practical information to motivate them in a time of crisis (ie- “The Blathereen won’t kill us. We’ll be asphyxiated by the Rakweed spores long before that happens”) but another entirely to provide comfort to someone who’s afraid of something less tangible than imminent death. Even more so when the person in question isn’t in a position to tell you exactly what it is they’re afraid of. He cares about people. But caring about people and being able to express that concern in a manner that comes across as comforting and sincere are two very different things. 

“Well, I can’t make you go into a healing coma. That’s on your own head” He ventures slowly “But I’m fairly certain- and I’m just speculating here- that whatever you might be afraid of can't be scarier than possibly dying from a Zuetanian plasma blast. Which wouldn’t only be scary but-”

“Really embarrassing?” She manages to whisper. 

“Exactly” Having finished applying the dressing pad the Doctor first re-covers her torso with her coat and then moves closer to her, lowering his voice “You know you can’t fight it forever. I mean, knowing us I’m sure you could try. But you take my point- You might as well just get it over with” And then after a pause he adds “You’ll be safe, I’m not going anywhere. Like I said, I’ve got a vault to guard. Students to see. Impossible mysteries of the universe to solve” 

Silence falls as the two look at each other. Her expression has become unreadable, any indication of how she’s feeling now masked by exhaustion. And then she nods. It’s a small, barely discernible nod, but a nod nonetheless. For the Doctor a very relieving one. 

With one last look at him she closes her eyes, her brow furrowing as she concentrates on slowing her breathing. It takes a few minutes but visibly the tension in her body starts to fade away- her fists unclench and the tremors start to subside and then all at once in an only slightly alarming manner her whole body goes slack. 

Having never seen the process from the outside before the Doctor’s a little taken aback at how much it looks like dying. If he wasn’t familiar with Time Lord biology he’d think she’d just expired then and there in his office, and he makes a brief mental note to go back in time and apologies to all the companions he’d ever done it in front of without giving them a substantial warning first. 

Regardless even though he’s now almost certain that she’s fully in a healing coma he feels compelled to take her wrist and just double check that she’s completely insensible. It’s not everyday that finding no pulse is relieving. But then again, today does seem to just be one of those subversive sorts of days. 

Carefully he lays her arm back down so its resting across her stomach and then steps back. It’s the first time she’s looked at peace since she came here, and it strikes him just how young this incarnation is. How small. How fragile looking. But looks can be deceiving; she’d handled the events of the last hour with an impressive amount of resilience, and it’s apparent that she’s definitely not as delicate or soft as she might appear. Not that he’d expected anything less from his future self, but still. 

Shaking himself out of his musings he turns away from her and ponders what he’s going to do now. Before she’d arrived his plans for the day had amounted to very little beyond solving “impossible” equations for the sake of it. Which technically he could still do, but he’s not really in the mood for it anymore. Actually he’s not really sure he’s in the mood for anything that requires any sort of brain power; he’s understandably feeling fairly drained and he needs something to do that’ll be relaxing. Something simple that doesn’t require much effort. 

And then his eye falls on a large leather bound book tucked away on one of his shelves. With a small smile he realises that she was right- It has been a while since he’s read War and Peace backwards in Latin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that no one was wondering but in case any of you were the running joke of punching someone to knock them out before treating their wounds is a reference to the musketeers, which also coincidentally had Peter Capaldi in it.
> 
> Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter :) I know it wasn’t the most exciting but I’m planning to release the next two back to back and more happens in them I promise.
> 
> Anyway thank you for reading <3   
> 
>  (Really brief sidenote- I was worried that I was still not getting Twelve's character right so I decided to rewatch series 10 for the first time since it aired and... It was an experience. I picked an episode at random and there were monks and the Doctor was making propaganda videos and while I really enjoyed watching it it was far stranger than I remembered it being. Idk, but I’m glad I watched it. It reminded me just how much I love 12 and Bill and Heather and Missy)


	4. Self Discovery I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter officially marks this fics turn from something that might have had a plot to "13 and 12 partake in various shenanigans that I thought would be fun to write" Like, this chapter really isn't brilliant (I had to rush bits of it in order to get it finished for today which is why the pacing is so off) but stick with me ok because asdfghjkl I promise the next one is better. 
> 
> A couple of things-  
> 1\. I hope I did Bill justice. I didn't really have anything for her to do but I didn't want to write something set in Season 10 and not include her  
> 2\. While I was researching healing comas for this I found out that when the Seventh Doctor wet into one his body temperature dropped so low that ice starting forming on his skin? So that's what that's about

It’s fair to say that now the impromptu chest surgery is over the Doctor’s day has taken a marked turn for the better. After giving his word to his future self that he wouldn’t go anywhere- a promise he’s only broken once when, acting on a strangely paternal instinct he didn’t know he still had, he’d felt the urge to dig several blankets out of the TARDIS in order to prevent frost from forming across her skin - he’s spent the afternoon reading at his desk. Well, about seventy five percent of his attention has been focused on reading, while the other twenty five percent has been dedicated to wondering if the formation of frost while in a healing coma has any logical scientific basis. So far he hasn’t been able to work out if it does.

Regardless, neither of the Doctors has moved much over the course afternoon, and thus for the last few hours a reassuring silence has dominated his office, broken only by the occasional sound of him turning a page over. 

It’s not until the sun is just beginning to set that the serenity is interrupted by a knock at the door. The Doctor hesitates before putting his book down, waiting to see if whoever it is is bothering him for reasons important enough to prompt them to knock again in the event that he doesn’t respond -and upon hearing a second knock he sighs and places his book page down on his desk. 

Given the persistence of the knocker and how long it’s been since the Doctor’s last seen him the chances are it’s Nardole back again. Now that his other self is unconscious the Doctor has fewer reservations about letting the robot in; he’s confident in his ability to come up with an explanation (“She’s an alien with two hearts like me, but not like me. Definitely nothing like me. She was passing through and she needed help”) and he’s far less worried about the possibility of an explosion in the form of an accidental regeneration happening. 

He pulls open the door-

“Hi!” -And unfortunately there goes his carefully formulated explanation, as it’s not Nardole, but Bill, who stands there beaming at him in a manner that definitely contradicts the wide array of gallifreyan swear words running through his mind. 

“Bill! What’re you doing here?” Rassilon. Now is not the time for Bill to be visiting. Explaining to a cyborg from the future that there’s an alien on your sofa is one thing. Explaining that to a human, even one as smart as Bill… Well it’s just out of the question. 

She frowns “Um, it’s 6 o’clock?” 

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed” Mentally he gives himself a hard kick for losing track of time so completely. Of course Bill’s here, it’s 6 o’clock on a Tuesday; for the last few weeks she’s been coming here at exactly the same time on exactly the same day. He’d known she’d be coming today. But in all the excitement of having the fate of his future literally in his hands he’d forgotten. If he wasn’t so busy frantically deciding what to do or say next he’d be appreciating the irony- A Time Lord losing track of time. “Actually today's really not a good-”

“-Who’s that?” Bill’s leaning around him to peer into his office. 

“Who’s what?” He steps outside and pulls the door shut behind him. It’s a shame that while he’d been contemplating his excuse as to why he couldn’t see Bill tonight he’d forgotten to do the obvious and close the damn door. 

Bill gives him a look “That blonde woman on your sofa?”

So that won't work. He turns around and opens the door a crack as if to check “Oh her!” He declares in mock surprise “She’s nobody” 

Bill wrinkles her nose “Bit young for you isn’t she?” 

“I don’t know what you mean” 

She holds her hands up “It’s fine. What you do in your spare time is up to you”

Internally the Doctor rolls his eyes. One of the reasons he likes Bill so much is because she asks questions and doesn’t just accept things in the same way humans often tend to do. But as a character trait it functions as a double edged sword; for a while he thought he’d never hear the end of how he’d managed to get the TARDIS into his office (apparently telling her he did it with a crane only created more questions) and he supposes that the same will be true of this if he can’t come up with a satisfying answer as to why there’s an unconscious body behind him. “If you must know Bill she’s… a family member” 

It’s a simple enough lie. He has family. Or, had, he supposes. 

“You’ve got family?” She asks. Apparently the lie isn’t as simple as he’d assumed it would be. The look on her face is one of complete incredulity, as if the idea of someone like him having relatives is the most implausible thing she’s ever heard. Almost as implausible as using a crane to lift a box into an office. 

“Everyone’s got family out there somewhere!” He says, and this time he doesn’t have to fake his surprise “Who’d you think the pictures on the desk were?”

She shrugs “I don’t know. Old Hollywood actresses maybe? That’s what they look like anyway. Particularly the blonde one” And fortunately the Doctor doesn’t have time to think of a response to dignify that with before she adds “Can I come in?”

He considers the question. On the one hand he’s really not in the mood to explain why he’s essentially got a corpse on his sofa. A corpse, it must be remembered, that is him from the future. And then again on the other hand, as he’d reminded himself earlier, if Bill’s curiosity isn’t satisfied he’ll never hear the end of it. Perhaps, he supposes, it might be alright as long as the two don’t interact with one another. Let Bill in. Don’t let them talk. It’s simple enough. His “simple” plans have an amazing track record of working as intended. 

He takes a deep breath and then holds the door open for her.

Once inside Bill immediately creeps over to the sofa, where the other Doctor remains in much the same condition as she’s done for the majority of the afternoon. The current Doctor just hopes that the blankets he’s draped over her will conceal the fact that to the untrained human eye it must look like she’s not breathing. 

As he begins rummaging through his shelves in order to find the right book he hears Bill ask “Is she ok?”

“She’s got… Epstein Barr virus. So no, technically she’s not the pinnacle of human health but for the sake of this conversation- yes. She’s fine” The Doctor’s not sure what’s worse- The fact that his time spent in a university has somehow made him familiar enough with common adolescent human diseases that he can name one off the top of his head, or the fact that his use of the word ‘fine’ must mean that despite the fact his future self has only been here for a few hours (most of which she hasn’t even been conscious for) she’s starting to linguistically rub off on him. 

“Right… So how exactly are you two related?”

“It’s a very long and complicated story.” He replies over his shoulder “You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you” At the very least it’s half true. 

“She’s very pretty. I can’t see much of a family resemblance though” 

And this remark he decides to ignore. Finally locating the correct book he pulls it off the shelf and tosses behind him to her. “Anyway, today we’re moving on to the schrodinger equation…”

\------

Several calculations later the Doctor and Bill have (as they usually somehow end up doing) moved on to a discussion about something she would argue is definitely not related to physics and he would argue definitely is. But Bill’s only human, if she can’t see the link between whether or not Queen Elizabeth ever secretly got married and quantum theory then he supposes it’s not her fault. He’s just about to pull a handwritten letter from Queen Elizabeth herself out of a drawer in order to make his point when there’s a sudden gasping sound from the other side of the office. 

His other self is sat bolt upright, blankets falling haphazardly off her lap as she clutches a hand over her chest while she hyperventilates. 

The Doctor’s beside her in an instant, one hand on her shoulder to steady her. “It’s alright. It’s alright” 

“What happened?” Her eyes are wide with panic as she struggles against the post healing coma confusion. Disorientation is to be expected after such an extreme system shut down, and the fact that she’s woken up in her old office faced with her former self probably isn’t helping matters. 

“Where would you like me to start?” He asks “Nothing became something, then there were atoms, and you’re now a part of the universe experiencing itself” He’s relieved when the joke prompts the fear on her face to give way to a small smile. Perhaps he’s not so bad at reassuring people as he’d thought. “How is it?”

She takes a deep breath, her lungs readjusting to the transition from being barely working to suddenly being necessary organs again “It’s not bad. Although, being sentient space matter is a lot less cool than it sounds”

“I meant the-“ The Doctor begins to say, but he stops when he sees her smile widen. Given that he’s only seen her looking pale and wan and exhausted it’s a strange but not unpleasant change to see her smile so easily. “Right. But seriously now, how is it?”

Her hands find the hole in her shirt and she pokes the dressing pad experimentally. “Hm. It feels less like I’ve got a two inch deep hole in my chest and more like I’ve just woken up from a slightly scary but in hindsight really necessary coma” 

“Metaphorically speaking of course” He adds, subtly gesturing behind him to draw her attention to their human company. “Bill this is my…” He thinks for a moment. Female relatives. It’s been a while since he’s had any of those. Particularly any young ones. “... My niece. Jane” 

“Nice to meet you Bill” His future self holds out a hand. To her credit she’s doing a remarkable job of behaving like she’s completely unphased by the situation she’s awoken to find herself in. As if being a human in another humans office making normal human conversation with a third human is something she does on a regular basis. And if she recognises Bill then it’s not showing on her face as the two shake hands. Although it occurs to the Doctor that she might not even remember her at all; he doesn’t know how long it’s been since she was him, and much as he likes Bill he’s accepted the reality that his days of adopting companions to take on adventures are long over. Sad as it is Bill will eventually graduate and leave him like any other student, so it’s doubtful whether this version of himself would have anything more than the faintest memories of her. 

Brushing his thoughts aside for the moment the Doctor tunes back into the conversation, wherein Bill is complimenting his future self’s (or what’s left of it) shirt. 

“Thanks” She says “I chose it myself. Shame it’s ruined though. Finding clothes with rainbows on is a _lot _harder than you’d think”__

__“Oh, no I understand. Completely. It’s-“ Bill seems a little flustered, like she’d done that day when he’d first called her to his office. Only then that had been more about getting caught in his lectures, now it seems different. It occurs to the Doctor that there might be a subtext to this conversation that he’s missing._ _

__But reassured that in the time it’ll take him to put away all the books him and Bill have used his future self will be able to keep her occupied, so that it won’t look suspiciously like he’s trying to usher Bill out of his office as quickly as possible (as if either of them have something to hide) he leaves the pair to it._ _

__

__However he’s halfway up a small step ladder in the furthest corner of his office, returning ‘The Non Linear Schrodinger Equation’ to its rightful place when Bill comes over to him. So much for keeping occupied._ _

__“Doctor? Can I ask you something?” ._ _

__“You can ask” He says “You might not get a satisfying answer though”_ _

__“Jane seems cool. Like really cool” Bill’s proceeding slowly, a mark of the fact that despite what it is that she might be about to ask she doesn’t want to be invasive “But I’m sorry, but if she’s your niece then why did you say it was really complicated? That’s...not that complicated. And why don’t you have any photos of her? And I know you said she was here because she had Epstein Barr, which is like mono right? Only, that went round the university a few weeks ago and it takes weeks to heal. You don’t wake up and suddenly you’re magically cured. At least, I don’t think you do. And her shirt and the bandage… It looks like- I don’t know- like she’s been burned or something”_ _

__The Doctor freezes. On the one hand it’s not as though he’d expected anything less from Bill; nothing ever seems to get past her. But on the other hand he hadn’t expected such a thorough dissection of the situation. And while he doesn’t think her first thought will be “Obviously she’s an alien from the future” he doesn’t like where this conversation is going._ _

__“Is she on the run from the police?” Asks Bill._ _

__“What?” It’s simultaneously so bizzare and yet so logical that the Doctor needs a moment to process it. It’s better than several of the conclusions she could've come to but still. _What? _____

____“Well, I’m just saying” Says Bill “It’d make sense. Why you don’t have any photos of her. Why you’re not telling me the truth about how you’re related. Why she looks like she’s been shot”_ _ _ _

____The Doctor stares dumbstruck at her. Several possible responses come to mind- none of them helpful- and finding himself completely devoid of anything to say in response to that he eventually just resorts to “Bill don’t you have somewhere to be?”_ _ _ _

____“So she is on the run from the police?”_ _ _ _

____“Don’t be ridiculous of course she’s not. Next you’ll be telling me she’s a two hearted alien from the long lost planet of Gallifrey. Look, I’ll explain everything next week when we’ve got more time. But for now…” He raises his eyebrows and she backs down immediately_ _ _ _

____“Right. Sorry”_ _ _ _

____He climbs down from the stepladder “It’s fine. Don’t be sorry” The Doctor doesn’t want to be harsh, but for the time being he doesn’t know what else to do. By stalling until next week he can be certain that he’ll have time to come up with some perfectly logical explanation.Unless of course he’s forgotten the entirety of today by then. Either way he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it. At least now the bridge is further away._ _ _ _

____As she passes his future self Bill says “Um, it was nice to meet you”_ _ _ _

____“Oh, are you leaving already?” She’s smiling but the disappointment in her eyes is evident. So, he supposes, that does mean that at least on some level his future self remembers Bill. Fondly too, by the looks of things._ _ _ _

____Bill nods “Yeah. I’m meeting a girl so...” She blushes a little_ _ _ _

____“Aw, what’s her name?”_ _ _ _

____“Heather. But, I don’t think she likes me that much”_ _ _ _

____“Well you never know. When it comes to love I’ve found that it’s better to try than to not and then end up regretting it later”  
He wonders if maybe she’s speaking from experience. _ _ _ _

____“Thanks” And then to the current Doctor she says  
“I’ll see you next week”_ _ _ _

____He nods, closing the door softly as she leaves._ _ _ _

____From across the room his future self says “I really like Bill. You should look after her you know”_ _ _ _

____“Is that a spoiler?” He asks, turning back to her._ _ _ _

____She’s stretching her arms behind her head, cracking her neck and gradually working out the stiffness that comes with remaining deathly still for hours on end. “Might be” She smiles cheekily at him and he rolls his eyes_ _ _ _

____“Well stop it then” The Doctor comes back over to the sofa and takes a seat beside her “I know that technically I won’t remember this but regardless, I don’t need you blowing a hole in the fabric of space and time by accident”_ _ _ _

____“Oh! That reminds me!” Her face lights up (in a manner that’s only slightly worrying given that he’d just been talking about annihilating the fabric of reality) and she immediately dives a hand into one of her coat pockets, pulling out a metal orb about the size of a tennis ball with a ring of red lights around the outside. It strikes the Doctor as something vaguely familiar, but then again, as someone who’s travelled the universe for thousands of years and seen more metallic glowing objects than he can count that isn’t very helpful._ _ _ _

____“What is it?” He leans forward slightly for a better look._ _ _ _

____“A proto desecration bomb, 63rd century by the looks of things” She turns it over in her hands with far less care than anyone who’s just announced that what they’re holding is a highly dangerous explosive ought to, and he feels himself slowly sit back again “Somehow it had ended up in a 24th century Zeutanian settlement, and I found it just as the Zeutanians were planning to weaponize it against the Krall. I managed to temporarily stall the detonation, but then-” She stops when she catches sight of the way he’s looking at her._ _ _ _

____Throughout her speech the Doctor has been in a slight state of shock, but he eventually finds the words to ask “Has that been in your pocket the entire time?” It’s so ridiculous (even for a regeneration of his) that he almost can’t believe it. She’s had a bomb in her pocket in his office for the last five hours or so. A bomb that she might’ve had the courtesy to mention earlier._ _ _ _

____She turns it over again, running a glowing orange metal rod- which he assumes based on the noise it’s making must be her sonic- across it and says “It’s fine, it’s in a temporal lock”_ _ _ _

____The Doctor has to bite down the urge to snatch it off her “First of all if I hear the word ‘fine’ come out of your mouth one more time I’m going to take you into my TARDIS and I’m going to take you back to your own time and I’m going to leave you there. Second of all what did I say earlier about blowing up my office?”_ _ _ _

____“Oi! It’s not going to detonate! It’s in stasis and I’m literally just about to disable it” She seems more offended than she has any right to be given that she’s the one who brought a highly dangerous explosive with her and then negated to mention it until now. Not that he doesn’t believe she can disable it successfully- He’s fairly sure that any regeneration of his (even the bowtie one) could safely disarm a desecration bomb- but still. It’s the principle of the matter._ _ _ _

____“If you blow up my office I’m going to be very cross” With that warning given he decides that he’s completely over this situation and leaves her to her own devices in favour of making tea; being all too familiar with the after effects of the healing coma he knows that she probably needs a cup, and in light of this bomb information he definitely does._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____But the kettle’s only just finished boiling when she comes over to him, tossing the presumably now safe desecration bomb in the air and catching it triumphantly with one hand “See!” She smiles “Perfectly safe. Sorry, I thought I probably ought to do that before I forgot about it. Again”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, I can imagine how easy it might be to forget that you’ve got a highly dangerous explosive in your coat pocket” He replies “I have to ask, are stupidly dangerous situations something I can expect a lot of in my future?”_ _ _ _

____A polite kind of sheepishness that vaguely puts him in mind of a picture of a cat Bill had shown him on her phone a few weeks ago crosses her face as she pockets the orb “...Spoilers”_ _ _ _

____Together they take their tea and return to the sofa, but it doesn’t take him long to notice that the issue is her hands are shaking too badly for her to drink it properly. At first he wonders if it might be some unforeseen complication of the burn troubling her, but after a few seconds it occurs to him that it’s shivering rather than pained trembling that’s affecting her._ _ _ _

____“Problem?” He asks._ _ _ _

____She shifts uncomfortably, frowning “My internal body temperature still isn’t right. I thought it’d have sorted itself out by now. Ugh, this is why I can’t stand the healing coma. Well, one of the reasons” It makes sense; lower than the human average of 37 degrees the Time Lord resting body temperature is delicate at best. And it can take some time to re adjust itself after dropping so low. She shivers again “Any chance I could borrow a jumper?”_ _ _ _

____\------_ _ _ _

____Which is how less than five minutes later the Doctor finds himself (Or rather himselves?) in the console room of the TARDIS. On the one hand it seems a little unnecessary, but in the absence of anything else it’s something to do. And besides, he’s heard flimsier excuses for a change of scene._ _ _ _

____“Wow… The old TARDIS...” Behind him his future self is taking in the details of the room, eyeing up the various intricacies from the bookcases to the embellishments with a wide eyed nostalgia. For a moment it looks as though she’s going to say something positive or profound. And then she frowns. “I don’t think like it”_ _ _ _

____“Well we never do” From his position at the console the Doctor doesn’t bother expending the energy to be offended. At this point it seems to be a right of passage for each regeneration to criticise the TARDIS of the last one. He’d be more concerned if she did like it. He turns his attention to the monitor in front of him, experimentally pressing buttons to see if he can get the screen to display the map he needs. Usually he can find his way around the TARDIS with relative ease, partly because of his own advanced memory and partly because she has a tendency to helpfully move the rooms he needs closer to the console, but it’s been so long since he’d last used the wardrobe that he doubts either of them (that being himself and the TARDIS) know where it is._ _ _ _

____“It’s too… clean” She continues “All the white and metal, it’s like a hospital. I tell you what I do miss, you know the brown tree like things we had in our tenth TARDIS? I liked those. They’d actually go really nicely with what I’ve got at the moment”_ _ _ _

____The Doctor taps a few buttons and gives the monitor a light slap in an effort to get it to display what he needs “Did they serve any purpose other than being aesthetically grungy?”_ _ _ _

____“No, but not everything has to serve a purpose” She walks round the console, lightly running her hands over it “Just wait till you get to my TARDIS. Trust me, the lighting’s a lot less painful”_ _ _ _

____Having walked the entire way around the room she comes back over to join him “So anyway, wardrobe?”_ _ _ _

____“I think it’s this way” He points up the flight of stairs to his left before it occurs to him that he might be misreading the information on the monitor. “That way” He corrects himself, turning to face the passageway on his right. And then doubting himself again he shrugs “I don’t know, it’s on Deck 8”_ _ _ _

____Frowning his future self leans over on tiptoes to check the screen (No wonder she doesn’t like this TARDIS layout given that she’s far too short to use it properly) “Isn’t Deck 8 that way?”_ _ _ _

____There’s silence. As much as neither of them will ever admit, it’s possible that throwing the manual into a supernova all those years ago was probably a bad idea given that they now collectively have no idea which way they’re going. The doctor wracks his brain- He’s fairly sure Deck 8 is the one past the beer_ _ _ _

____He starts with “Or maybe it’s-”_ _ _ _

____Just as she says “It could be-”_ _ _ _

____And then both of them turn around to face the staircase that leads down away from the console._ _ _ _

____“Down the stairs?” She asks_ _ _ _

____“Down the stairs” He affirms._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I hope this was ok and I hope you guys enjoyed reading it <3 I'd like to say I'll be posting the next chapter tomorrow but more likely it'll be Friday. As always if you notice any parts where I've messed up then please let me know because I'm terrible at proof reading my own work, and thank you very much for reading :) xx


	5. Self Discovery II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asdfghjkl for once I don't really have much to say about this chapter, except that it goes out to a close friend of mine (If you're reading this then hi Faye <3 I hope you like this) who's been in hospital recently and who I thought needed something fluffy to read while she recovers x 
> 
> (Wait actually I lied, I also want to say that the "Pacing what is pacing" tag also applies to this chapter because I have no idea how to write natural scene progressions)

Together they make their way through the TARDIS with him leading and her trailing behind slightly as she keeps stopping to look at (and more often than not touch) everything they pass on the way. One the one hand he understands why- it’s not everyday you get to revisit one of your old TARDIS’s- but on the other he’s fairly sure that an inability to keep her hands to herself is in itself a quirk of this particular regeneration. 

They make another left turn at the brewery, and then a right one at the arcade and then they go back and retake that turn because they’ve ended up at the cinema room which he’s fairly sure isn’t near the escalator to Deck 8. 

While they’re making their way past the third medical bay she says “I don’t think my TARDIS has this many corridors. Have you ever thought about putting up signs?” 

“I’ve considered it, but then Ri-” The Doctor just about manages to stop himself before he says _that _name. In many ways it doesn’t matter that the other Doctor is him, he’s not ready to talk about this with anyone yet. Not even his future self. “-But then people would know I didn’t know my way around. And at the very least I like to keep up the pretence that I know what I’m doing”__

__She gives a small laugh “Trust me, I know”_ _

__From there it’s not long before they find the escalator, and only a couple more minutes after that they find themselves rounding a corner and entering a narrow dead end corridor lit by a few flickering lights that leads to a single grey door. Closer inspection reveals that the hinges and the doorknob have started rust. Although the TARDIS is a highly intelligent machine it takes an awful lot of power to constantly maintain a near infinite number of rooms. So while the console room and several other places that he uses on a semi-regular basis are essentially immune to the effects of aging, the longer a room goes without being used the more likely it is to fall into disrepair._ _

__“Been a while then?” She asks as he briefly scans the door, just to check that the room inside is stable enough for them to enter._ _

__“I don’t think I’ve used it since I regenerated. But even then I’m not sure, my memories from that time aren’t the clearest” The Doctor checks the readings, and now satisfied that while the exterior is more than a little rusty the structure inside is essentially fine, he pushes the door open._ _

__“Oh” The pair stare in stunned silence at the carnage before them. To an extent it’s a nice room, almost Tudor-esque with dark oak panelled walls and a chandelier that stands in stark contrast to the shabby door they’ve just entered through. But like the door it looks as though it hasn’t been used in years; open chests of drawers sit overflowing round the corners of the room, meanwhile the floor is so littered with clothes that it’s impossible to tell the colour of the carpet underneath. There’s even some articles hanging from the chandelier, as if at some point someone had stood throwing clothes out of one of the many wardrobes over their shoulder and then never bothered to find out where those said clothes had ended up._ _

__“...Any chance you’ve got around to clearing this in the future?” He asks slowly_ _

__“Um… No. It’s actually possibly- no, probably- messier in my TARDIS”_ _

__They share a look. There’s a chance that this might’ve been a mistake._ _

__Hesitantly both Doctors begin picking their way across the room, wading through knee deep piles of skirts and trousers and jackets that came from goodness knows where and once belonged to goodness knows who. Throughout his life various people have told the Doctor that he needs to take better care of his ship, and given that most of them were self righteous Time Lords he’d tended to ignore them. It’s only now that he’s vaguely considering the possibility that on some level it could be a little true._ _

__“You know… I think there’s probably a reason why she has a tendency to land us in unfortunate places and then leave us there” He says_ _

__“You think so?” She asks, stumbling momentarily over a stray boot._ _

__He nods “I suppose we should just count ourselves lucky that she hasn’t got sick of us and thrown us out into the stratosphere yet”_ _

__Her silence speaks volumes. “She threw you out?” He asks. The more he hears (or in this case, doesn’t hear) from her the more concerned he becomes for his future._ _

__“Just the once. I think it was an accident though. Then again I had just made a huge mess of the-Oh!” Mid sentence she gets distracted by something at her feet. Rifling through the clothes she pulls out a long brown trenchcoat that’s almost as long as she is tall. So that’s where that had ended up._ _

__“It really has been a long time since we cleaned” The Doctor observes as while on his way to inspect the coat closer he legs get temporarily caught on a familiar black bomber jacket covered in patches. And it’s at this point that he realises that foraging for a suitable shirt/jumper in a room that hasn’t been cleaned for at least 500 years might be like trying to find a needle in a haystack._ _

__\--------_ _

__As it turns out he’s right; despite the sheer quantity of stuff in here, after at half an hour or so he hasn’t managed to successfully locate something satisfactory. There must be something significant about the fact that his former companions seemed more inclined to leave uncomfortable clothes behind in the TARDIS and take their everyday, casual clothes with them. Regardless, while normally the Doctor is fairly good at picking a task and sticking to it, the tediously nature of this one means he’s already ready to give up now._ _

__But when he turns his attention to his future self to see if her search has been anymore fruitful he notices that she’s holding aloft an unfamiliar red dress with a white spotted pattern, thick pleats and a black collar. As far as The Doctor can recall it’s not something he’s seen before. To be fair his mind isn’t always the best when it comes to physical details but still- He climbs his way over to her in order to get a closer look._ _

__However as he gets nearer he slows when he can see there’s something off about the way she’s holding it. She’s got it grasped tightly in both hands, and she’s staring down at it, face white as a sheet like she’s seen a ghost._ _

__“What is it?” He asks when he reaches her._ _

__The strange look on her face passes as quickly as it appeared “Nothing. Just thought it looked nice. It wouldn’t suit me though, I’m more of a trousers kind of person. Oh! Did you notice I’ve brought the suspenders back?” Her rambling doesn’t distract him from the fact that she’s carefully folding the dress and gently placing it on top of one of the chests of drawers. Despite what she says it’s clearly not ‘Nothing’, but he can’t imagine why a dress would hold such significance for her. More to the point if it’s already here in his TARDIS then he must know about it, so there’s no apparent reason why she wouldn’t be able to explain it to him._ _

__Having put it down she then picks up a black item of clothing lying beside it and tucks it under the crook of her arm._ _

__As she starts re-picking her way to the door he follows “Lying to your former self. I’ll admit it’s easier than lying to your future self but it’s still not advisable. Can’t you tell me what it is?”_ _

__She doesn’t look back at him “No”_ _

__“I guess I’ll just get rid of it then” He doesn’t actually have any intentions of doing so but it instantly provokes a reaction._ _

__She turns round “Oi! Don’t do that!”_ _

__“Right. So it’s important enough that I can’t get rid of it but you can’t tell me what it is?”_ _

__“You said no spoilers not me” Her frown and the way she’s pointing her finger in his face is surprisingly not rendered ineffective by the fact that she’s so short she has to tip her head all the way back just so she can look him in the eye._ _

__“Fine” It’s not worth his while pursuing the issue, not when it’s making her this agitated. Plus he’s patient, he’ll find out eventually. But a part of him can’t help but wonder just what sort of profound importance a dress could possibly have. He changes the subject “Did you find anything?”_ _

__She winces and passes him the black shirt she’s tucked under her arm “Um... Sort of”_ _

__He unfolds it, furrowing his brows when he sees what it is “That’s what you’re going with?” The Doctor recognises it as something Captain Jack used to wear on days when they would just hang around the TARDIS. In the realms of clean and comfortable it's probably perfect (and definitely preferable to the charred remains of her own shirt) but with regards to taste…_ _

__Well taste is always subjective. But personally the Doctor can’t imagine he’d ever be caught dead in a shirt that reads _‘Are you a beaver? Cuz dam!’ _____

____“I know. It’s not ideal. But I really can’t be bothered to spend anymore time looking through this mess”_ _ _ _

____They look back at the chaos just as one of the skirts delicately suspended from the chandelier falls off._ _ _ _

____A beat passes._ _ _ _

____“Fair enough” Says the Doctor._ _ _ _

____\----_ _ _ _

____After having left his future self to get changed in the console room the Doctor first makes both of them another cup of tea (At some point he needs to have a very serious talk with himself about the effect living with humans full time is having on him) and then swipes his copy of War and Peace off his desk. While he waits he thumbs idly through the foreword section; he’s curious as to whether or not this edition of the novel includes the story of how Tolstoy was partly inspired by a foreign traveller he’d met at a party who’d been there one moment and then had disappeared into a “vanishing cupboard” the next, but it’s only a few minutes before she emerges from the TARDIS._ _ _ _

____Underneath both the violet cardigan she’d also swiped from the wardrobe and her own coat Jack’s shirt looks comically large, but it’s clearly far more comfortable and practical than what she’d had on previously. Pulling a packet of biscuits out of her coat pocket she takes one for herself and then holds them out to him._ _ _ _

____“Custard cream?” She asks._ _ _ _

____The Doctor shakes his head. There’s been something on his mind for a few hours now, and although he’s been able to ignore it in the light of burn cleaning and wardrobe hunting now is increasingly starting to look like as good a time as any for him to learn the answers to the questions he’s been wanting to ask her since she arrived._ _ _ _

____As she flops down beside him and begins dipping her biscuit into the tea he’d left for her on the coffee table the Doctor ventures forward with “You know you still haven’t given me an answer”_ _ _ _

____“For what?” She asks. Or at least that’s what it sounds like, it’s a little harder to understand her when she’s got a mouthful of custard cream._ _ _ _

____He hesitates a little before proceeding “...Martha’s a doctor. Kate Lethbridge Stewart would’ve found someone at UNIT to help you. Sarah Jane Smith has a super computer. You could’ve gone back to 2008 and asked Torchwood for help. You had the entire universe at your disposal. So why me?”_ _ _ _

____“Don’t know really” She shrugs before taking a small sip of tea “I’ll be honest, everything after the plasma blast is a bit of a blur. It’s surprisingly hard to think while your ribs are melting. But you know what they say, there’s no one like yourself for taking care of yourself. Plus I’ve been fancying a visit for a while now. So it was all a matter of circumstance I suppose”_ _ _ _

____Anyone else might’ve found the lie convincing, and to her credit it’s fairly solid on a surface level. But as he’d pointed out earlier she should know better than to try being dishonest with herself._ _ _ _

____“Really? In order to land here you’d have had to bypass the chronal security protocols _and _the code seven safety measures, not to mention the paradox stabilisers, so forgive me if I don’t believe that you just ‘fancied a visit” As he speaks his other self averts her gaze, opting to drink more tea rather than answer him.___ _ _ _

______And that prompts another question- one that the Doctor’s been afraid to ask more than any other- comes to his mind. Based on what he’s gleaned from her he’s fairly certain that he already knows the answer, but his morbid curiosity gets the better of him. He softens his voice “Are you travelling alone?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______But he’s pleasantly surprised when she vehemently shakes her head and says “No. I’ve got a team. I say a team, more like a gang. A fam” He frowns at her use of modern human vernacular and she waves a hand dismissively “The name’s still a work in progress. But they’re great. Better than great, brilliant really” Her expression shifts to one of wistful affection, followed very quickly by a sobering shadow “But…I want to be careful with them. Not cautious, but careful” She sighs “I’ve put them through a lot already, and Time Lord physiology is… not always the easiest for humans to understand. We’re a bit much to handle sometimes and I didn’t want to”_ _ _ _ _ _

______It occurs to the Doctor that maybe his current guilt at subjecting his companions to the ordeal of an unexpected healing coma does payoff in the future. Now that’s a paradox: Knowing not to put people through the unpleasant surprise of you seemingly dying for several hours because you went back in time and did the same thing to your past self. But chronological absurdities aside he wonders if there’s something more to the idea that she specifically has put them through some unpleasant situations._ _ _ _ _ _

______“And what about all that business with the healing coma?” It seems like the next logical question for him to ask._ _ _ _ _ _

______She brushes her hair behind her ear and picks at the sleeve of her coat “I don’t know. I had a bit of a wobble there, I really wasn’t myself” Pausing to take a deep breath she continues “And this might sound ridiculous but… I think… I think this body is afraid of the dark. No, not the dark. The other thing” Again she picks at the sleeve of her coat “You know what it’s like. It’s not the same as just sleeping. It’s...It’s the loss of control” She sighs, a visible tension starting to creep through her “I don’t like not knowing what I’m doing, it’s like I have this need to be completely sure that if anything happens I’m going to have full control of the situation, We’ve always been like this, but something about this form in particular... I don’t like not knowing all the facts and I don’t like complicated conspiracies and I don’t like the fact that the healing coma is so incapacitating… And I’m- I’m scared of...“ She trails off. Momentarily it looks as though she might be about to elaborate on what it is that she’s frightened of, but then she smiles (it doesn’t escape her notice that it doesn’t wholly reach her eyes) “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine now. I’m definitely not planning on ever having to do it again” With her metaphorical walls firmly back up again as she takes a sip of tea before adding “And I’m still quite new to myself so...” as something of an afterthought._ _ _ _ _ _

______The Doctor doesn’t quite know what to say. While there’s obviously a lot about her life and herself that she’s not telling him her attempts at being honest have taken him by surprise. It’s been about sixty years since he’d left River on Darillium, and although relative to the rest of his life that’s not a long time it’s a significant while to spend unable to open up to anyone about what’s really happening inside your head. He doesn’t consider himself a fuzzy “I have feelings and I need love” sort of person, but there is something about having someone to talk to beyond the superficial “Do this for me Nardole” or “Don’t do that Missy”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Can I be honest with you Doctor?” As he says it it occurs to him that this might be the first time he’s addressed her out loud by their name. He proceeds slowly “I know that… There have been times in our lives when we’ve had far less than I’ve got now. I’ve got Nardole. I’ve got Bill. I’ve got Missy, although I suppose it’s debatable whether or not that’s a good thing. I’ve got my other students. I-“ He swallows, fighting against the sudden inexplicable lump in his throat that really has no business being there “- I had River. And I had her for far longer than the rest of us did”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“But, even despite that, I still feel as though I’m missing something. I feel...” He hesitates as it occurs to him that he doesn’t quite know what it is that he feels. Is it emptiness? Is it isolation? Loneliness? None of those words seem to fit it. It’s not as though he’s unhappy, far from it. But he’s... not exactly happy either. There’s a privation in his life, and the fact that he can’t seem to put a name or a reason to it only serves to make things worse. A problem without an identifiable cause is, at least in his mind, a self indulgent one. Something that in his mind is definitely not worth having. He lowers his voice, eyes falling on the pictures of River and Susan as he murmurs “I suppose we’ve always been selfish. But me especially”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He drops his gaze. As cliche as it sounds it’s the truth. If he wasn’t so convinced that part of what he’s feeling is linked to the way he relates to others he’d say that perhaps what it is he feels the most is self disgust. It just doesn’t seem right to be this way when the world around him is more stable than it’s been for years._ _ _ _ _ _

______The Doctor looks back up at his future self. Unsure as to what reaction his words will have gotten. But when their eyes meet he realises that she’s looking at him with something that almost resembles pity. Yet it’s more than that; it’s like a sad but sincere understanding. Something akin to the way one might look on a tragedy they were far enough removed from to not find it devastating, but close enough to still be hurt by it. With that in mind he feels a pang of regret for even bringing it up. Whenever he’s met himself in the past it’s always ended up being painful eventually. Pain seems to be an inescapable part of their lives. And as with the pain of the past you always find yourself facing it again eventually. No matter how long it’s been or how far you’ve come._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m sorry” She says eventually, genuine remorse apparent in her voice before she asks “Look, can I be honest with you now?” She pauses “Sometimes...I think- I think a lot of people think that self care, that looking after yourself is about restrictions, or acting like your own personal judge jury and executioner but…” She stops and thinks for a moment. It occurs to him that she’s so expressive that the look on her face when she works out exactly how she wants to convey what she’s trying to say is almost audible “Do you remember that time we ended up trapped with Sigmund Freud in a flooding cave after the siege of La Rochelle?” The Doctor nods, recalling all too well what an unfortunate afternoon that had been. Both Freud and the Duke of Buckingham had never forgiven him. “Well, Freud was right in a way. I mean he was wrong about a lot of things, but he was right about the superego. The idea that you’ve got this internalised authority figure who acts as your conscience, who punishes you when it feels you’ve done bad. And the hard part isn’t listening to the superego, it’s learning how to create an antithesis to it. It’s teaching yourself how to be kind to yourself. And sometimes a part of that is accepting that sometimes...sometimes you can’t always put a name to what it is that’s going wrong, but that doesn’t mean you deserve less understanding or compassion. Does that make sense? I don’t know, probably not. But another part of it is understanding that you deserve to let people in. And that you don’t have to start with the expectation that you’re going to hurt them or let them down”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The last part feels like a non-sequitur. But then the Doctor thinks about Bill, and his future self’s earlier remarks that he ought to keep her. Bill, who he’s been trying so hard to keep at arm's length because his days of taking humans on adventures are over now. Because the idea of losing any more, as much as he hates to admit it, is too much for him. Because after he’d lost River he’d worked so hard to resign himself to the fact that he wouldn’t ever feel any sort of love (romantic or platonic) again. Regardless in her words there’s a tangible hope. An inkling that the universe still isn’t done with him, a possibility of finding companions (something he hasn’t had since the death of the Ponds) again. The idea that although he feels like he’s missing something now it might not always be like that._ _ _ _ _ _

______Hm. All in all it’s rather a lot to take in._ _ _ _ _ _

______But eventually he is able to find the words to say “How did you do that?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Do what?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Know exactly what to say? Be reassuring?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______A smile returns to her face “Partly it’s because I’m you- Was you- So I know what it is you need to hear. But it’s also because… Not too long ago a great man gave me some really good advice. He said that hate is always foolish, but love is always wise. Well, he said a lot of things but that was probably his main point. And I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and he was right. But I’ve realised that it’s not just about other people. It applies on a personal level as well. And… it’s not as though it’s easy to love yourself- If it were then everyone would do it- But if you can, where you can, even if it’s just in small ways… Because you’d be surprised how much of your life can fall into place once you work out how to have compassion for yourself ”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The Doctor thinks about it. There’s a lot to unpack there but mostly he’s curious about the ‘great man’s’ words. They sound oddly familiar to him “Who said that?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Beethoven” She replies, without missing a beat._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yes that sounds like the sort of pretentious thing he’d say” He’s met Beethoven enough times to believe that’s something the composer might have come up with “Was he drunk at the time?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She stifles a yawn before nodding “Oh definitely. We were at Saint Aquinas’s stag do. Even after fourteen regenerations I don’t think I’ve ever been as hungover as I was the day after that”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well Aquinas always did have a taste for extremely cheap and extremely alcoholic wines” And then he asks “So that’s one of your new rules is it? Adamant self love?” Much as he hates to admit it the idea of learning self compassion doesn't sound like him. On the one hand he’s got no idea how far into his future she’s from, perhaps by the time he’s her he’ll have overcome the self hatred that seems to plague him no matter how many times he regenerates. But on the other hand the pieces of information he’s managed to glean from her make him more than a little sceptical. Again his mind goes back to her earlier statement that she’s put her new friends through “enough already” But luckily he doesn’t have time to explore this thought process any further as she’s been too busy yawning widely to hear his question._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What? Sorry, I’m just… suddenly really tired” She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand before clumsily brushing a lock of hair away from her face “Doing incredibly detailed motivational speeches isn’t something I usually find this draining”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well, making incredibly detailed motivational speeches seems to be a recurring talent of ours, but from what I’ve just heard yours are particularly impressive. And given that less than twelve hours ago you narrowly avoided having your organs liquidized by a Zeutanian plasma gun I’d say it’s not surprising that you’re feeling a little off form”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ugh” She makes a noise of frustration and mumbles something about feeling like a human (and how she’s definitely never going near the Zuetanians ever again if it’s only going to result in her feeling like this) as she drops her head onto his shoulder._ _ _ _ _ _

______Usually the Doctor would object to someone making use of his shoulder like this, but surprisingly he finds that for once he’s not really bothered by the physical contact. He minds a little bit more when he realises that she really wasn’t joking when she said she was “suddenly” really tired, and that she’s now asleep against him in a way that means he can’t move without disturbing her._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well make yourself comfortable why don’t you?” He says quietly, jokingly addressing the empty office at large._ _ _ _ _ _

______He supposes that he’s just lucky he picked up War and Peace before he sat down else he’d be settling in for a long night. Careful not to disturb her as he leans forward to move the book from its resting place on the floor he brings it up onto his lap and opens it roughly where he left off. He’s a couple of pages away from the one he was last reading, but before he can skip ahead to his current place his eyes are drawn to the line “Everything I know, I know because of love”_ _ _ _ _ _

______And much as he doesn’t want to spend anymore time unpacking the deep emotional mysteries of the universe he can’t help but wonder if perhaps self love begins with accepting who you were in the past and thinking back on that person with kindness. Or maybe it’s expecting the best of your future self. Perhaps it doesn’t always have to be about the present. Maybe learning to look on your current self with compassion comes later._ _ _ _ _ _

______Or maybe it doesn’t even matter. Who knows? Finally reaching his page he shelves any thoughts of self love for another time and returns his attention to Tolstoy._ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I hope this was ok. I know it's really dialogue heavy and a lot what's being said doesn't make sense (and I did rush the ending because asdghglk I don't know how to end chapters) but I hope you guys still enjoyed it <3 As per I still suck at proofreading so if you see any glaring mistakes please let me know, and thank you to everyone who's left kind comments/kudos because genuinely I really do appreciate it xx
> 
> And I'm sure that most of you have probably already read SilverHeart09's fics but if you haven't yet then I'd seriously recommend them! <3
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT- I completely forgot to say that the ending of this chapter was inspired by this adorable piece of fanart- https://insidethetardis-scribbles.tumblr.com/post/181834768512/i-really-hope-they-will-meet-each-other


	6. Self Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :) So this is kind of a short chapter, and after I'd written it I realised that it felt really rushed, which is why I'm releasing it back to back with an epilogue. Honestly I wanted it to be longer and have more dialogue but I felt like Thirteen and Twelve had already said everything that needed to be said, plus idk I'm kind of _maybe _tempted to write a sequel so, idk I need to save some content for that.__
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _As always I don't have a beta and I absolutely can't proofread my own work so if you notice any parts where I've just switched off my brain please let me know and thank you very much for reading <3_  
>  _

If the Doctor believed in a personal sentient universe responsible for doling out both punishments and rewards he might believe that the last few hours have been some sort of compensation for the burns, explosives and wardrobe scavenging that he’s had to deal with today. Having finished her spontaneous nap on his shoulder his future self and him had spent the rest of the night exploring several human films that Bill had recommended to him upon learning about his limited knowledge of popular culture, and again the idea of cosmic compensation comes to mind because it’s not often in his life that the Doctor has the opportunity to watch sci fi films with someone just as willing to point out the inaccuracies in it as he is. Although that being said War of the Worlds was a surprisingly good depiction of the events of the Toclafane invasion (something else the Doctor can only really talk about with himself given that all but round five people in the Jones family have forgotten it ever happened) 

And now in the early hours of the morning the pair are together gradually making their way through the deserted university back towards where she thinks she’s left her TARDIS (“Like I said, bit of a blur really. But I’m sure it’s this way”) with her walking ahead and then slowing to talk to him before jumping a little ahead again, chatting non stop all the while about various things she remembers from the university and her appreciation for antimatter drives and so on and so forth. Having only really seen her either in pain or exhausted it’s odd but incredibly cheering for the current Doctor to see her with this amount of unbridled energy. Although how any human companions she has manage to keep up with her if she’s like this all the time is beyond him. 

As the Doctor watches her he’s also acutely aware of his earlier observation that she looks far younger than him, but not just in the obvious sense. Her eyes are bright and hopeful and completely devoid of the weariness he sees in his own reflection whenever he looks in the mirror. Like there’s a spark of life that he hadn’t really noticed he was missing until he saw it in her. 

Outside the sky is grey, a hallmark of the sort of tepid English morning that strikes the right balance of being cool without being too frigid. A little way from the university the TARDIS is parked on a green under a tree next to a sign that reads “Keep off the grass” 

Collectively ignoring said instructions the pair make their way towards it, with him pointing out that she’s incredibly lucky no students have covered it in crude scribbles or used it as an impromptu toilet overnight. Worse things have been done by students; The Doctor recalls the time he’d given a guest lecture at University College London, where it had emerged that the students used to play football with the preserved head of scholar Jeremy Bentham until a staff member finally decided that a better lock was needed for the cabinet his body was kept in. Point being, he wouldn't put it past anyone on a university campus to find something that wasn’t theirs and immediately find a way to incorporate it into some drunken shenanigans. 

“She looks good” He observes, approvingly taking in the slight turquoise hue to the paint work and the new shinier sign on the door. 

The other Doctor strokes a hand affectionately down the edge of the TARDIS “Doesn’t she just” She sighs. Then she turns back to face him, smiling “Right, thanks for looking after me. I really do appreciate it, even though I know I’m not always the best houseguest” 

“As you and I both know I’ve currently got a far worse tennant than you living in a vault in my basement. But for future reference your hosts are far more likely to warm to you if you declare any explosives you have on you before they find them unexpectedly”

“Yeah, you might be right” They share a brief laugh before she asks “So, I suppose I’ll see you around then?” 

“You tell me” He smiles. Although he doesn’t voice this a part of him is hoping they’ll see each other again. Usually when he meets his past and/or future selves there’s a lot more imminent monster based danger and even more arguing. To not only have the opportunity to relax with himself (impromptu chest surgery aside) but to also actually get along with said self is something that almost never happens when the Doctor comes across another version of himself. Perhaps it’s because in many ways she’s everything he doesn’t see in himself, and by extension if she’s what his future holds then he certainly doesn’t have any complaints. 

Well, maybe he’s got one “One more thing Doctor” he adds as she opens the door. She stops and turns back to him “Don’t go standing in front of anymore Zuetanian plasma guns”

She grins “I’ll try my best not to, no promises though” Underneath her smile there’s a wistfulness that fleetingly makes it look like she might say more. But both of them seem to understand that there’s nothing more that needs to be said. Besides, the universe works in strange ways, and the Doctor has a strange feeling that this isn’t going to be the last time the two of them meet. 

And then she’s got her back to him and she’s stepping into the TARDIS. On her way in she says something that might be “Hello old girl” but the Doctor’s not close enough to really be certain. And then the door closes behind her, followed swiftly by the familiar wheezing groaning sound as the wind around him picks up and the TARDIS begins to phase away. 

Thus before he knows it he’s stood alone on the green. 

Although if he’s learnt anything during his time with his future self it’s that alone isn’t quite the right word to describe his situation. Or rather, it doesn’t have to be. In fact he’s now certain that before he forgets that she was here entirely he has some very important changes he needs to make to his life, starting with his aforementioned basement tennant. 

The Doctor allows himself a moment of contemplation- musing as he looks at the spot where only seconds previously the TARDIS of his future had stood- and then he turns and heads purposefully back into the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this :) I totally get that it was quite short and again I have no idea what pacing is but like I said, that's why this comes with an epilogue xx


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god adfrjgnv where do I begin? First of all I'd like to thank everyone who's commented, left kudos, subscribed etc. When I posted the first chapter of this I was really nervous and it means so much to me that people seem to like this <3 Like, I've never finished a multi chapter fic before and I wouldn't have been able to if it weren't for you guys xx
> 
> And as for this chapter a couple of things-  
> 1\. I'm so glad I managed to find a way to include the fam and Missy :) I wasn't sure if I'd be able to but all of them are such a joy to write so I'm happy I was able to include them  
> 2\. I originally wrote a really long end paragraph instead of just stopping, and idk I might add it back in if you guys think the end feels too brief  
> 3\. If someone greets you with "Alright" Are they asking a question or stating something? Because I spent ages trying to work it out and aaaaah I still have no idea

“Hi fam!” At the sound of the TARDIS door swinging open the Doctor jumps up from her position on the floor, narrowly avoiding smacking her head on the underside of the console in the process. Piloting her ship into a timeline she’d already visited had been difficult enough, and judging by the current state of the exterior engines the return journey hadn't been much better. 

“Alright” Ryan nods 

“What were you doing on the floor?” Yaz seems caught between confusion and amusement. 

“So, while I was away I did a thing I probably shouldn’t have done and accidentally drained most of the TARDIS’s power” As the Doctor says it she begins the process of programming the coordinates in, flicking various switches in the hopes (since she’s still not fully familiar with these controls) of hitting the right one “Nothing serious, just need to park her along a rift in space and time in 2010 Cardiff, go grab some lunch while we wait for her to recharge, maybe visit Cardiff castle while we’re at it, and then fly away and continue exploring the cosmos like normal” She pauses in her button pressing to check that all the information has been absorbed by her companions “Any questions?”

Ryan raises his hand tentatively “Yeah I’ve got one. What are you wearing?”

“Oh this old thing? It belonged to a friend of mine a long time ago” She opens her arms to show off the beaver shirt. Despite her initial reaction to it it’s really grown on her. In the rare event that she might ever go to bed of her own volition she’s tempted to start wearing it as pyjamas “Do you like it?”

There’s a deafening silence as the three humans look awkwardly at one another. 

“It definitely... makes a statement” Says Yaz eventually, prompting Ryan to give a poorly conceived snort. 

“Good statement or bad statement?” Asks the Doctor “Actually don’t answer that” 

She returns to the console, flitting enthusiastically between the various sets of switches and dials. Despite how enjoyable spending time with her past self was it really does feel good to be back home in her own TARDIS with her friends and the whole of time and space at her fingertips. 

“If you don’t mind me saying Doc you seem awfully chipper” Says Graham, confirming that her positive mood hasn’t gone unnoticed by her companions. 

“Oh I’m just glad to be back. I’ve missed you lot” And it’s true- Being confronted with her previous loneliness and how devoid of genuine connection her life had been before she’d started going on adventures with Bill has made her appreciate just how comparatively _good _it feels to have a TARDIS full of people again, fears about overwhelming them with the crazier aspects of her life aside.__

__“I mean, we’ve missed you too but, you’ve only been gone two days”_ _

__“Time machine Graham! For all you know I could’ve been gone centuries”_ _

__Yaz frowns “Really? How long were you gone for?”_ _

__“Umm… I’d say around two days?” While a large proportion of her time spent in the past is something of a haze the Doctor’s fairly sure it wasn’t longer than that. Time passes differently both when you’ve been shot and when you’re doing very little besides relaxing. With regards to the latter it’s not something she tends to do often, and although it was surprisingly fun in the moment she doesn’t think she’s suited to doing nothing. Speaking of which- “Ok, you know what, when we’ve done Cardiff, where would you most like to go in the whole entire universe Yaz?”_ _

__The question arises not only out of her new found sense of restlessness (a welcome change from being in pain and absolutely exhausted) and desire to start re-exploring the universe as quickly as possible, but also again from_ _

__“Um… What about the Queen’s coronation? Could we go and see that?” Asks Yaz, as the suggestion is met with affirmations of approval from Ryan and Graham,_ _

__“Yasmin Khan that is a fab idea. It’s been way too long since I’ve been to 1953” Beams the Doctor, before glancing briefly at the TARDIS display in front of her “Ok, she’s locked the coordinates. Cardiff, 27th June 2010” She puts a hand on the pivotal lever, still grinning  
“Ready?”_ _

__

__\--------_ _

__She’s draped over the piano, head hanging off it so she’s looking at him upside down when he comes in. The Doctor hasn’t been in here in person in about fifty years, something that unsurprisingly she calls him out on immediately_ _

__“Well Doctor, it has been a while” She drawls “Have you come to let me out or is this just a conjugal visit?”_ _

__The Doctor pulls up a chair beside the chamber “I came to see you”_ _

__Missy folds her arms, kicking her feet up into the air and like a bored child “Why?”_ _

__“Because I wanted to” He says, and then at the sight of her face adds “What? Is that so hard to believe?”_ _

__“Yes because it’s very clearly not true” She rolls sideways off the piano, landing nimbly on her feet “You never want to see me. No one ever _wants _to see me Doctor”___ _

____“Fine. Does there have to be a reason why I came to see you? Why does everything always have to have a reason?”_ _ _ _

____“I didn’t say there did have to be one. But you’ve got that look on your face”_ _ _ _

____“What look?”_ _ _ _

____She rolls her eyes and sighs “If your face was any more expressive your thoughts would be audible.I mean the ‘Oh woes me I’m the Doctor and I’ve got some greater purpose that I need to fulfil’ look” She drapes a hand over her forehead and falls back dramatically onto the piano stool._ _ _ _

____Unfortunately she’s right about the whole purpose thing. However there’s no easy way to say “I met my future self and now I want to work on forming genuine connections with the people in my life, starting with reforming you” When it comes to Missy there’s no easy way to say anything really. Much as the Doctor definitely cares about her (as much as to not only save her from a debatably deserved execution and to provide her with a prison far nicer than most of the ones he’s stayed in) that care doesn’t translate to trusting her with sensitive information about his life, even if he doesn’t think she’ll ever escape and have a chance to use that information. More to the point he doesn’t think a sentimental appeal to emotion will have much of an effect on her._ _ _ _

____Perhaps he should have thought up what he was going to say before coming in. Over the last twenty four hours he’s become increasingly aware of the fact that his life consists of way too much making it up as he goes and nowhere near enough careful planning._ _ _ _

____Thankfully Missy saves him from having to explain his intentions “Honestly I don’t really care why you’re here. I already know how this is going to go” She walks round the piano, dragging her finger delicately over it in a way that’s uncomfortably familiar to the way his future self walked round the TARDIS console “You’ll sit looking sadly at me for several minutes thinking about the good old days we spent on Gallifrey and wondering where it all went so wrong and then you’ll give up and disappear for three weeks. I’ll grant you, you’re incredibly adept at both looking sadly into the horizon and running away from your problems but-”_ _ _ _

____“You do know I don’t enjoy keeping you here don’t you? It’s not exactly fun” In spite of his promise to himself before entering the vault that he wouldn’t let her provoke him the Doctor can’t help but voice his irritation._ _ _ _

____“Yes it must be so hard living in a lavish university never actually having to do any work except explaining the most basic concepts of the universe to humans” She utters that last word almost as if it’s something offensive “You’re the equivalent of a parent waving keys in front of a toddler and that’s all you do” She frowns, tilting her head to one side “Actually now I’ve put it like that I can completely see why you’re not having fun. Anyway the point is Doctor I already know that in an ideal world you’d be able to ignore any feelings of obligation or guilt you have surrounding me and happily live your life out among the humans for the next thousand years until it time to-”_ _ _ _

____The Doctor stands up, striding up to the chamber “No, in an ideal world you wouldn’t have resurrected the dead in the form of a cyber army, or unleashed a swarm of mutilated humans on the world, or allied yourself with the Eminence, or murdered Tegan Jovanka’s aunt, or pitted those human colonists against the Dalmari. In an ideal world Koschei you would have never looked through the untempered schism into the Time Vortex and you wouldn’t have-” His anger fades away when he realises what he’s done. It’s been a long time since Missy had gone by that name, and in letting her old sentimental nickname slip out of his mouth he’s arguably betrayed his intentions._ _ _ _

____There’s a silence that seems to last an eternity as the two look at each other, their faces as close as they can be with the diamond byzantinate wall separating them._ _ _ _

____“Well that’s terribly sentimental dear” murmurs Missy after a pause “But unfortunately, despite your heroic, god complex motivated efforts, we don’t live in an ideal world Theta. At the very least I’d have thought you’d have realised that by now”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____\-------_ _ _ _

____Outside the vault Nardole’s still diligently waiting where he’d left him, and the Doctor listens to the sound of the door sealing behind him before he starts walking towards the stairs, saying “Nardole go and find Bill. Right now. We’re going out”_ _ _ _

____While his encounter with Missy hadn’t exactly gone as he’d planned it has at the very least made him more determined to accomplish his next goal._ _ _ _

____Behind him Nardole (Who’s essentially having to run to keep up) starts to protest “Out? Out where? But what about-”_ _ _ _

____“She’ll be fine for an afternoon. Honestly I’d be more worried about the safety of whatever unlucky creature is trying to break in. Go find Bill, and I’ll meet you at that coffee shop, you know, the one on the high street where all the patrons drink almond juice instead of milk”_ _ _ _

____“We’re going to get coffee?” The surprise in the robots voice is evident._ _ _ _

____“Nardole, I may be an alien but I’m not a complete monster. Obviously we’re not going to get coffee, we’re going to get tea. You, me and Bill and afternoon tea”_ _ _ _

____He stops upon reaching the stairs, observing how Nardole is looking at him strangely “Doctor are you feeling ok?”_ _ _ _

____The Doctor claps him possibly a little too hard on the shoulder “Nardole I’m feeling better than I’ve done in ages. But I’m inclined to believe the feeling won’t last, so, one more time- You. Me. Bill. Coffee shop. Understood?”_ _ _ _

____“Uh… I think so?”_ _ _ _

____“Good”_ _ _ _

____So while Nardole goes to get Bill the Doctor promptly starts making his way off campus, not only to ensure they get a table before the lunchtime rush but also to ensure he’ll have a long enough amount of time to come up with the explanation for Bill that he’d assumed he’d have a week to come up with and that he now has to formulate in less than half an hour._ _ _ _

____The End._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a massive sucker for a cheesy but really brief ending ok <3


End file.
